


Panacea

by INeverHadMyInternetPhase



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Fantasy AU, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Might continue this depending how I feel in the morning, Phil is excited, Sort of getting together?, dan is sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 02:22:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11727525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INeverHadMyInternetPhase/pseuds/INeverHadMyInternetPhase
Summary: Dan is a potions master, one of the best in his field. Or he used to be. His last job a few months ago has left him tired and disillusioned, but a new job at work involving a certain Spellcaster Phil Lester might just be the thing he needs to turn his life back around.





	Panacea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [auroraphilealis (thousandrosepetals)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thousandrosepetals/gifts).



> I was sick today, so I decided to ignore all my other projects in favour of writing something completely new and off-the-wall. Oops.
> 
> Also, it's Elizajane's birthday! And I wanted to write her something. So here you go, my dear, some fantasy for you, especially as you were the first person who made me confident in posting fantasy fanfics in the first place <3

_“His name’s Phil Lester._ ”

PJ’s voice was loud on the phone, overly enthusiastic, hurting Dan’s ears in the early morning haze. Dan was still climbing out of dreams, blinking blearily. His dark grey covers were pulled right up to his chin. “And why are they making me do this?”

“ _I don’t know what the higher-ups think any more than you do_ ,” PJ explained, which was a lie. They both knew that was a lie. PJ was far more in-the-loop than Dan was, on the fact that he actually turned up for work every day and read and responded to his emails regularly.

“ _My best guess is to get you back in the game,”_ PJ said bracingly. “ _New assignment. Something to get your blood running again.”_

“Why couldn’t it have been a solo assignment,” Dan grumped. His head was still swimming with half-remembered thoughts, clinging to the vestiges of his dreams. Or his past. One or the other, it was sometimes hard to tell.

He rubbed his free hand across his quilt, his other loosely wrapped around his phone, pressed half-heartedly to his ear.

“ _Check your email_ ,” PJ advised him. _“Answer the report. Go to the meeting. It’ll be good for you.”_

Dan sighed. PJ was right. PJ was always right when it came to advising Dan on what to do with his life, but right then Dan didn’t want to take the advice. He wanted to turn off his phone and dive back under his covers and stay there for the remainder of the day.

He’d been doing that for months.

Maybe today was time for a change.

“Alright,” he mumbled. Checking one email could count. Maybe sending one reply, if he was up to it. Then he could go back to his wallowing in peace.

“ _I’m calling back in an hour to make sure you’ve actually done it,”_ PJ told him, and then hung up.

Dan kept the phone to his ear for a moment, and then dropped it down to the duvet. Space-grey phone, space-grey blanket. Everything in his life was grey. That used to make him happy, he thought, once when it was nothing more than an aesthetic. Now it felt a little like his entire state of being was grey.

Dan closed his eyes and slid back beneath his blanket.

\---

After exactly 57 minutes, Dan checked his emails.

He did this because he knew PJ would actually call him back after an hour, and he didn’t want to hear the disappointment in PJ’s voice if Dan had to tell him once again that he hadn’t done anything. His laptop was heavy on his thighs.

The email was a simple, straightforward one. A report from the Department of Health that there’d been reports of an outbreak in a local block of flats, could the agency send a team out immediately. The forward from Dan’s manager just said _you + spellcaster, handle with urgency._

Ugh, not Spellcasters. Dan never got on very well with them. They were so… pretentious.

He answered the email in a spurt of motivation that he would probably come to regret later, but at least he could tell PJ that he’d done something when he called.

PJ did call. “ _Proud of you,_ ” he said after Dan told him. “ _It’ll be easier than you think. I know Phil, he’s a nice guy.”_

“Right,” Dan said uncertainly. He never would have classed a Spellcaster as a _nice guy_ really. They just wandered around the place waving their arms around unnecessarily, Dan always avoided them when they came into the office.

“ _And the case shouldn’t be too difficult_ ,” PJ added, obviously trying to sweeten the deal. “ _Just something to dip your toe back in the water. Come back to us after all this time. We’ve missed you.”_

“You sound like a needy child,” Dan answered disapprovingly.

“ _Well then be a responsible parent and get out of bed.”_

“You don’t know I’m still in bed,” Dan defended himself, from under his bedcovers. But PJ didn’t know that. He couldn’t _see_.

After they hung up, Dan played on his phone until the next email came through. From his manager, _Excellent, given Spellcaster your details, you will receive a call._ Dan tried not to pay attention to how ominous that sounded, and closed his laptop again decisively. That was enough of doing things for one day. He was going to hang out on his favourite reddit discussion thread until something from the outside world forced him to be active again.

\---

His phone rang in the middle of the day.

Dan had been splayed out on his back, arms hanging off the end of the bed, facing the ceiling, when his ringtone burst loudly into the room. He grunted, debated ignoring it, then remembered the earlier email with _you will receive a call_ and scrambled to grab for his phone where it was hiding under his pillow.

The voice that greeted him was low, but bright. “ _Hi! Is this Daniel Howell_?”

“Call me Dan,” Dan answered instantly. “Please. Or you’ll sound like my grandmother.”

There was an answering chuckle. “ _I tried the office phone first. Thought mobile was a bit forward, you know? But then you weren’t there.”_

“No,” Dan answered, trying not to feel guilty. He cast about for a way to explain himself, but grasped at nothing other than vague, feeble excuses he’d given a hundred times before. None of them sounded good enough.

“ _So_ ,” the Spellcaster said, a little uncomfortably. “ _Will you be in your office tomorrow? I thought we could meet there, go over the case files. I’d suggest mine, but it’s never quiet enough over here. I guessed potion masters would be a bit more orderly.”_

Dan snorted at that thought, thinking of the multiple explosions and clouds of smoke that were a part of his daily existence. Back when he used to go into work, anyway. But sure, let the Spellcaster go ahead and just assume things, it was in his nature probably.

“Sure,” Dan said.

“ _Ok, but can we meet at like, 11 or something, I don’t do mornings very well and I’m gonna need to grab some coffee.”_

Dan smiled a little. “Trust me. 11 counts as early. We can make it 12 and I’d be fine.”

_“Maybe 11:30,”_ the Spellcaster admitted, and chuckled again. “ _Wouldn’t want to invade your lunch plans. So I’ll come by then?”_

“Yeah, sure,” Dan agreed, feeling marginally better about things. Of course that meant he actually had to go into the office tomorrow morning.

But maybe it was about time. His bedsheets needed changing anyway.

\---

Louise nearly fell out of her chair when Dan turned up in the office in the morning.

“Oh,” she said, clutching at her coffee mug and staring at him. “Oh, you’re here. And you look—oh. But you’re _here_.”

“Thanks,” Dan answered dryly, sliding into the cubicle next to her. “Exactly the kind of welcome back I expected.”

She patted his arm. “I just wasn’t sure. PJ mentioned the job, but – well, no one really expected you to take it.”

Dan’s stomach sank a little at that. He should have known his actions over the past few months wouldn’t reflect well on his workmates, but the idea of being _office gossip_ was quite possibly the worst thing in his life. He almost regretted coming in.

“PJ said it’s a good return job, though,” Louise said with that same forced smile that everyone around Dan seemed to wear these days. “Not too difficult. Just a banishment thing, and dealing with the damage – and you could do that in your sleep.”

Once upon a time, that would have been true. Now, Dan wasn’t so sure. His potions kit felt foreign in his fingers as he set the briefcase down on his desk, popping open the clasps to check his ingredients stash.

Anything fresh in there had dried up long ago. Even his staples were looking a bit weedy, and the fine dried grain looked worse for the wear, too. Maybe he should just throw the whole thing out and re-stock.

Maybe nothing was ever salvageable, and he just had to start everything over again, but Dan didn’t want to dwell too hard on that.

“It’ll be different this time,” Louise added in a low murmur, leaning in conspiratorially close to Dan’s desk.

Dan’s grip tightened around his mortar and pestle. He set them in place in his potions kit, carefully.

“There won’t be any surprises, it’s not a tricky diagnosis.” Louise’s voice was low, her tone comforting. Dan usually loved her, but just then he felt coddled. “Straightforward. I promise.”

Thankfully, Dan was saved from responding by the arrival of the Spellcaster.

He was impossible to miss. The door alarm going off wasn’t even necessary because who else would be wearing a _cloak_ inside, honestly, and this guy wasn’t just wearing any cloak. No, it was bright blue, splattered with half-moons and weird symbols that looked like runes and some kind of glittery gold thing clinging to the material. Along with his black hair and glasses, he really couldn’t have stood out more.

Dan glanced down at his own outfit, black on black on black. Well. At least you’d be able to tell them apart.

The Spellcaster was looking around uncertainly, and when he stepped forward he nearly tripped over one of the cauldrons stacked up in a corner. Dan got to his feet for fear that this stranger would make a mess of the room if left alone, and he’d better not end up anywhere near the cauldrons bubbling away in the back.

Dan stepped out to greet him, but then realised he’d completely forgotten the Spellcaster’s name. PJ had told him, Dan was sure of it, but now… the name was completely gone. Which left Dan standing in the middle of his office gaping like a fish out of water.

Luckily, the Spellcaster came to his rescue. He tilted his head. “Daniel Howell?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Dan found his voice quickly and strode forward, hand outstretched.

The Spellcaster grinned, shaking his hand firmly. His cloak billowed ridiculously with his every movement. “Phil Lester. Good to finally meet you, they said you were the best.”

“Yes, well,” Dan mumbled, and then backed over towards his desk, letting go of Phil Lester’s hand in favour of reaching for his kit. “They say a lot of things.”

Phil’s grin didn’t diminish. He looked around the office with interest, eyes keen. “Is there somewhere we could go over the case files together?”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Dan answered, realising with a slow sense of panic that he hadn’t actually printed off any of the files he’d been sent. But luckily there was a brown folder under Phil’s arm – he must have come better equipped than Dan, maybe Dan would be able to leech off him for a while. “We can head to one of the conference rooms.”

“Room B is free,” Louise supplied helpfully from beside them.

Dan jumped, glancing down to see her smiling warmly between them. Like a doting mother. Dan held back a sigh, he didn’t _need_ protection.

“Ok, well,” Phil looked back at Dan, a little uncertainly. “That sounds good?”

“It’ll do,” Dan agreed humourlessly, snapping his kit shut and tucking it under his arm. “It’s this way.”

Phil Lester was a Spellcaster through and through. He laid all the files out in perfect order for them to look through, but went through everything with a flighty kind of carelessness, jumping around from place to place without worrying about order or protocol. He waved his hands around when he got excited, too, and his stupid cloak took up half of his chair.

Dan couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed.

There was something charming about the way Phil pointed to the first victim of the case. “Female. 42. Came down with sudden migraines that quickly escalated to full-body aches, flu-like symptoms and general malaise also. Doesn’t seem like much, until you couple it with—” he leaned over dramatically, pointing at another victim, four along in the pile. “This guy. Sneezy McGee. Also flu-like symptoms, starting with a headache. His daughter, too, came down with sudden headache in the middle of maths class, taken home early. Then it spread to half the block. Classic inhabitant pattern, probably an imp, maybe a sprite, I’d say.”

Dan nodded along, his fingers itching to reach out and right the haphazard way Phil had sprawled the papers across the table. They weren’t even in straight lines. “I’d say imp, myself.”

“Same,” Phil agreed. “This smacks of a malignant aligning spell, probably bound to the building. I can dismiss it easily enough and put up a few defence mechanisms, but as for the victims – those I’ll leave up to you.”

Dan’s smile became a little more forced.

“I think we should head over there as quickly as possible, really,” Phil continued, oblivious to Dan’s stony silence. “Don’t want to leave the people worried, there was talk of evacuation but I don’t think that’ll be necessary. I could head over there now, but I hear potions sometimes take a while to brew, so – will you need more time?”

Dan blinked, coming back to himself. He thought back to his stale potions kit, his recipe lists hiding somewhere deep down in his phone notes, and guiltily nodded. “Yeah, sorry. Might take a little while, actually.”

Phil nodded understandingly, but he didn’t have that too-kind look on his face that surrounded Dan everywhere he went at the moment. He just looked… normal. Like a normal co-worker discussing a normal job on a normal day.

For some reason, that warmed Dan up a little.

“I’ll just need to refresh my stock,” Dan added, sitting up a little straighter. “And brew up a draught. General healing, probably, but a little bit of painkillers to settle the headaches. And actually, if we knew what kind of imp it was, I could add in an immunity – assuming it’s a local imp and not tropical, though I doubt one of those could have got into a city apartment block—”

“I could find that out,” Phil agreed, brightening even further. “I was going to pop over tonight, just get a feel for the building, I could totally find out what we’re dealing with here.”

Dan sent him a look. “You can detect imp types?”

“Given the right circumstances,” Phil shrugged, and then winked at Dan. Or tried to – it came out more like a failed blink. “We Spellcasters have our secrets, you know.”

Dan shook his head, trying not to be charmed. It was difficult. And he’d be lying if he didn’t say he was marginally impressed. Detecting different kinds of supernatural life forms was difficult, and determining anything specific was even more challenging. But if Phil Lester could do that, then Dan’s job would be much easier.

“So I’ll head over and see what’s there, and then text you my findings?” Phil offered with that same crinkly smile.

Dan looked over and smiled back, if only a small one. “Yeah. Sounds good. If you really can find out the imp’s classification then I can add immunity into the draught.”

“No problem, materino,” Phil promised, proving that he was indeed a complete dork.

But for the first time in a very long time, Dan was looking forward to making a potion again.

\---

Dan spent that evening back in his study at home. (Well, it was supposed to be a study. Over the past few months it had slowly degraded into a place he shoved everything he didn’t want to think about, and as such was full of bank letters and important files and the reports of the last case he’d handled, which were directly shoved underneath a giant pile of piano sheet music he’d been trying to teach himself).

His cauldron was bubbling away again over the fire, the familiar smells of boiling ingredients satisfying something deep within him that he hadn’t realised had been missing. Smoke was billowing up the chimney again, probably adding to his output emissions bill, but he didn’t even care. This was part of his work, he could claim it back.

And he was working again, and it felt _good_.

A little while into making the potion, when Dan was sitting at his desk chopping up some monkfish roots, a text came through. Dan frowned, not recognising that number, but when he checked his history it was the same one that called him that morning.

Dan saved the number as _Phil (Spellcaster)_ and then checked what the text said.

**Phil (Spellcaster):** _Went to block of flats, situation is fairly dire. Put in a defence spell for the night but victims def need your draught. Meet there at 9am tomorrow?_

Dan wrinkled his nose when he noted the earlier time, but at the same time, he could feel his stomach tightening. These people were suffering, they needed his help. His and Phil’s help. Phil must think it was bad if he was calling for an early morning, and the original email Dan had got from his supervisor was marked with urgency.

Maybe he should have gone with Phil today. Or at least worked up a draught faster.

He frowned, half-way through texting Phil back when another text buzzed through his phone.

**Phil (Spellcaster):** _Oh, and the imp is an earth type. Climbed in through ivy on the outside of the building, got into a sixth floor window. Those people have been hit the hardest_

Dan clucked his tongue. Defence on these buildings needed to be improved, the regulations weren’t tight enough. This building was privately owned, Dan remembered reading, surely there should have been more checks for this kind of thing. Now people were suffering needlessly.

He sighed, texting Phil back before going back to chopping up his roots.

**Daniel Howell:** _ok am working on draught thanks will build in earth immunity_

The next time his phone buzzed, Dan jumped, the knife slipping in his hand and slicing through part of his finger. He cursed softly, leaping up before any blood could contaminate his ingredients, and scurried haphazardly into his bathroom.

Cleaned up, and with a plaster on his finger, Dan checked his phone again to find three new texts sitting there.

**Phil (Spellcaster):** _How do you even do that like I never understood how immunity works_

**Phil (Spellcaster):** _Well I never understood potions in general to be fair too much chemistry for me_

**Phil (Spellcaster):** _(I’m not stupid I promise I just find numbers hard to grasp)_

Dan smiled a bit. He typed out a reply, biting his lip.

**Daniel Howell:** _well it’s a bit too complicated to explain over texting and tbh if numbers aren’t your thing I doubt you’d find it very interesting_

He left his phone on his desk as he went to stir his cauldron again, carefully adding in the chopped roots until they were fully dissolved and the clouds of smoke had turned a pleasing russet gold colour. Dan turned to browse his shelves then, looking through jars and jars of old dusty ingredients, some of the labels so yellowed they were barely readable, marked out in his own sloppy writing over the years and years of collecting interesting ingredients.

He’d had a love for this, once. And just now, scanning the shelves again, Dan felt a stirring of something within him that might have been close to love; an echo of a feeling he once knew well.

He picked out the things to build up an immunity to earth, and then turned back to the cauldron.

Hours of stirring later, Dan settled the cauldron on low heat to simmer overnight, and smiled. He felt tired, aching in his bones from unfamiliar movements, but he’d made an acceptable draught. It shone the correct light green colour, smooth and clear apart from the bubbles of the soft simmering. A night of simmering and it would be ready for consumption in the morning.

Dan set the lid on the cauldron and switched on the safety settings, and then retrieved his phone before leaving his study for the night, closing the door softly beside him.

He didn’t check his messages until he was curled back up under his bedcovers, so it took him a moment to understand the context, but sure enough there were a few new texts from Phil Lester.

**Phil (Spellcaster):** _I don’t know, it was interesting hearing you talk about it earlier. You have a way about you_

**Phil (Spellcaster):** _Sorry that’s probably a bit strange to read, I meant like you make it sound interesting when you talk about potions_

**Phil (Spellcaster):** _What I’m trying to say (badly) is I would quite like to hear you talking about potions actually. I’ll ramble to you about spells in return, how about that?_

Dan arched a brow at the texts. It had been a long, long time since anyone had been interested in his ramblings – even PJ and Louise got a bit tired of his talking about potions, it was more of just a job to them, but for Dan, it had always been a passion. Or it used to be. That feeling had dwindled over the past few months.

But just then, in the study making the draught for tomorrow – Dan had felt something like that passion stirring again. Something good, something warm. Perhaps if administering the draught the next day went well, then… then maybe.

And maybe Phil would be someone he could talk to about it. Strange cloak and strange manner and Spellcaster habits and everything, Phil was… interesting. Talking to him had made Dan smile. That had to stand for something, right?

There was a funny feeling in his chest when he thought about Phil. Something a little tight, a little warm, and very unfamiliar.

Dan shook it away as best he could, and tried his best to sleep.

\---

The next morning, the first thing Dan did was scurry down to his study to check on his potion. It was still happily bubbling away, still a good clear green colour, all the safety settings on properly. He put the fire out and carefully spooned the green draught into several jars, stoppering each one up with a cork lid to make sure it remained as preserved as possible.

It felt good. Seeing something he’d made again. Dan actually caught himself humming a few times as he went about his work, and grew quickly embarrassed, even though there was nobody around to hear him.

As he left his flat, potions kit with draught included safely tucked up under his arm, Dan found his thoughts drifting back to the strange Spellcaster he was working with on this case. Phil wasn’t really what Dan expected a Spellcaster to be. Most of them were stuffy, scholarly types, who always gave the impression they knew more than you, and could hardly deign to be in your presence.

Maybe Dan just hadn’t met the right kind before, but Phil was different. Phil cracked (awful) jokes, he behaved quite childishly, and he was silly. But maybe he’d be different today. They were on the job today, after all.

Dan caught the bus to the address of the apartment block that had been stricken by the imp, and as he walked up the street towards the building, something close to nerves were stuttering away in his stomach. He hadn’t actually arranged a place to meet Phil, beyond the building where they would be working. He wondered if he’d have to go in alone.

Thankfully, Phil was not difficult to spot. He was standing outside the building on the lookout for Dan, apparently, still dressed in a ridiculous cloak. Dan noticed with slight horror that it was a shade of green today, though, not the same blue as yesterday. That meant Phil owned more than one of that monstrosity.

Dan shook his head in despair.

Phil grinned, lifting one hand in a wave as Dan got close enough to talk to. “Hey! You made it, then.”

“I did,” Dan grumbled in return, and wondered why everything he said had to come out so monotone. He sounded… grey, next to Phil.

“Sorry about the early start,” Phil apologised, eyes creasing up a bit. “I was just worried about the people living here, I don’t want any more victims – oh, oh, you’ve got – your hair—”

And before Dan knew what was happening, Phil’s hand was cupping his cheek, lightly brushing at his forehead.

Dan blinked, eyes widening. His stomach jumped, tightening and then relaxing again, and he could feel the fluttering of his pulse in his throat. No one ever touched him quite like this.

Phil pulled away after a moment – too soon, Dan thought, ridiculously – and flicked a bit of fluff away. “Sorry. Some white in your hair, it made you look like you were greying.”

“Excuse you,” Dan said, when he found his voice again. “I’m too young and pretty to be going grey.”

“Definitely too pretty,” Phil agreed, and fail-winked at him with both eyes. It was ridiculously endearing.

Dan’s stomach did that weird jumping thing again.

“Anyway,” Phil said briskly, turning and gesturing theatrically towards the entrance of the building. “Shall we, partner?”

“Are you always this theatrical about everything?” Dan asked tiredly, but there was a hint of a smile playing at his lips. Phil’s actions were infectious. Dan was finding it difficult to stand near him and be miserable.

Phil shot him another bright grin. “Probably. Come on. We’ve got work to do.”

Dan gestured him ahead, giving an overly-theatrical bow, and Phil just laughed at him as he strode forward.

The apartment building was in a sorry state of disrepair. A good quarter of the windows were boarded up, and the paint on the corridor walls was scratched and peeling in several places. The staircase was narrow and winding, difficult to navigate, and the long corridors full of doors were dark and eerie. Phil had the numbers of apartments with people who had been taken ill by the imp’s magic, which Dan took off him, scanning quickly. Seven apartments in total, twelve inhabitants injured.

“I’ll still administer the draught to everyone,” Dan decided. “I’ll just go to these people first. But the whole building should take it, we don’t know who might have been affected and just not be showing any symptoms yet.”

“Sounds very sensible,” Phil agreed. “If it’s alright with you, I’ll tag along. I set defensive spells along where the imp broke in yesterday, but I could do with checking each individual flat for residues.”

“Sure,” Dan agreed, secretly very pleased that he wouldn’t have to face all these people alone. Plus, being in Phil’s presence somehow made everything feel more manageable.

The day went smoothly. Phil, it turned out, was an easy talker, and his winning manner and cheery grin had an instant effect on the occupants of the flats whose doors they knocked on. Phil would sit with them, each and every person living in this building, ask about their grandma’s health or their pet’s names, stroke their dogs and play with their children. The people seemed to take an instant liking to him.

Dan could see why, if he was honest. The more time he was spending around Phil, the more he realised that Phil was someone who set him at ease. The thoughts that tended to rush around Dan’s head settled with Phil, and whenever Phil shot him that grin, or a sidelong smirk, or threw his head back and laughed at something Dan said, Dan felt a little shot of something absurd spark through his chest.

He ignored it as best he could. It had been a long, long time since he’d felt any flutterings of the sort, and he wasn’t about to start feeling them for a co-worker he’d likely never see again after this job was over.

Dan wished he could borrow some of Phil’s easy manner, though. One of the sickest patients he had to deal with was a young girl, only seven years old, who was bedridden with the headaches and pains from the imp’s magic. He crouched by her bedside and clicked open his briefcase, reaching for a vial of the draught, unstoppering it carefully.

Unfortunately, the minute the girl caught sight of it, she started screaming.

Her father tried to help, but he lived alone with her and he was also stricken by the imp, his head sore and his body weak. He’d taken the draught as soon as Dan had given it to him, but it would take a few hours to begin to have an effect.

“I’m sorry,” Dan said helplessly to the screaming girl. “I don’t like taking medicine either. You know I still can’t swallow tablets?”

The girl just screamed louder.

Dan looked at her, his insides twisting. He had no idea how to handle this. He’d never been much good at this side of potion magic, much better suited to sitting in a study alone coming up with recipes than actually interacting with people to give the medicines to.

Phil, of course, swept in to the rescue.

He crouched down beside where Dan was sitting helplessly next to her bedside, leaning in a little closer. “Hey, now. This is a nice bed. Have you had it long?”

The girl blinked at him, hiccoughing.

“I think it’s a very nice bed,” Phil said encouragingly, knocking his elbow into Dan’s side, and almost sending Dan sideways in surprise. “Don’t you agree? I’m sure the scary man next to me agrees that your bed is nice.”

“I’m not scary,” Dan responded indignantly, and got another elbow to the ribs. He rubbed his side, glaring sidelong at Phil. “But, uh, yes, it’s a very nice bed.”

The girl snivelled.

“I think he’s scary,” Phil added in a conspiratorial whisper to the girl. “Dressed all in black like that, and holding out a scary green potion. Not nice, is it?”

Whimpering, the girl shook her head.

“But I’ll tell you what,” Phil added, “You know what defeats scary men?”

The girl shook her head, spellbound.

Phil beckoned her closer, and she craned her head as much as possible. He whispered, “Wizards. And you know what I am?”

The girl’s eyes widened. “A wizard?”

“Yep!” Phil nodded, and turned to Dan, waving his hands menacingly. “So don’t worry. I can fight this one off no problem, and then you can have the medicine from me, because I’m safe. Yes?”

The girl nodded, eyes still wide.

Dan was giving Phil a very unimpressed look, but Phil just tapped his nose and then stood up, almost matching Dan’s towering height. He lifted both hands and sort of wriggled them in Dan’s direction, mouthing ‘play along’.

Dan rolled his eyes, but held out the draught and clutched a hand to his chest, giving a theatrical scream.

“Begone, foul demon!” Phil proclaimed, and Dan took that as his cue to fall to the ground with another long scream, as dramatically as possible.

Phil leaned over and plucked the draught from his grip, and then turned to (presumably) give it to the girl.

Dan lay on the floor, staring speculatively up at the ceiling, and wondered just what his life had turned to.

Phil ended up having to drag him out of the flat by his wrists, which tugged rather uncomfortably on Dan’s elbows, who had to continue acting like he’d been knocked out for the sake of the little girl who had, eventually, taken her potion. Her father thanked them both profusely, and offered them a cup of tea if they were ever in the area again.

Once back out in the corridor, Dan got to his feet and brushed off his clothes, saying mildly, “Did you really have to call me a foul demon?”

“Sorry,” Phil apologised, though his wide grin didn’t look like he was much sorry. “Couldn’t think of any other way to help her.”

“I’m sure you _could_ ,” Dan grumbled, “But you did better than me, so. Can’t complain.”

Phil grinned at him again, and then took his wrist to drag him along to the stairs so they could get up to the next floor. “You still have to tell me what exactly is in that draught, by the way. I’ve never seen a potion look so smooth.”

Dan flushed a little. He could never take being complimented very well. “Oh. It’s, uh, not very complicated really.”

“whose recipes do you use?” Phil asked, hopping up the steps before him.

“Oh, I don’t.”

Phil stopped dead in the middle of the staircase, spinning to regard Dan with one brow arched. “You make your own recipes?”

“Erm.” Dan scratched at the back of his head, suddenly very unsure what to do with the feelings swimming around in his stomach from having Phil looking at him like that. “Yeah?”

Phil stayed looking at him, and then shook his head with a low whistle. “I mean, they said you were the best, but _still_.”

Dan’s lips twitched. He folded his arms awkwardly around his potions kit. “It’s not that impressive. Loads of potions masters do it.”

“Not like that,” Phil disagreed. “I know I said I don’t know much about chemistry, but I know enough magic to recognise a good potion when I see one. Your draught is so _smooth_ , how do you _do_ that.”

“I’ll show you at some point, if you like,” Dan said before he realised what he was saying. His eyes widened a little. “Uh, not that, like – you don’t have to spend more time with me, I just meant—”

“Would you really show me?” Phil interrupted, his whole expression brightening.

Dan shifted awkwardly, something getting stuck in his throat. He swallowed. “Uh. Yeah? I mean, if you really wanted – I kind of like making potions, and I haven’t done it in a really long time, but – yeah, I could show you.”

Phil beamed. “That’d be amazing. You never answered my text last night, I wasn’t sure if you’d be up for something like that.”

“Oh.” Dan realised, belatedly, that he still had Phil’s texts sitting on his phone in his pocket. “Sorry. I’m shit at replying to things.”

“That’s ok,” Phil answered benignly, still grinning. “I know I can be a bit much. I’d love to see what you do, though, if that really was ok.”

“Yeah, totally,” Dan agreed, wondering how he could say _you’re not too much, you’re wonderful,_ without sounding strange. He coughed. “Maybe you could show me some of your stuff too, like, you know—” he trailed off, making a strange wiggly-arm motion in the air.

Phil laughed at him. “I’ll have to, if you think _that’s_ what I do. You look like a windmill.”

“Excuse you,” Dan huffed, putting his arms down again quickly, embarrassed. “I was just repeating what you look like. You wander around the apartment waving your hands around while I administer actual helpful magic.”

“Rude,” Phil argued, turning to continue up the stairs, Dan trailing along in his wake. Phil’s ridiculous cloak was making it a little difficult not to trip, the staircase was really very narrow. “I’ll have you know I’m putting important defences in place.”

“Yes, well, you could maybe look a little less ridiculous about it,” Dan answered, but he was biting back a smile.

“I do not look ridiculous,” Phil muttered, huffing. “We can’t all look good in black.”

Dan felt his face flushing again. He looked away quickly, down at his all-black outfit, his black briefcase clutched against his chest. Quietly, almost too quietly to hear, he murmured, “Yes, well, I definitely couldn’t pull of a cloak like you do.”

If Phil heard him, he didn’t react. Dan couldn’t decide if was relieved or disappointed.

\---

Getting through the rest of the apartment block took several hours, and by the end of it, Dan felt like a sweaty, disgusting mess. The lift in the building had been out of service for weeks, apparently, so they’d had to climb all eight floors of the building, and pop into every flat to check the defences and administer the draughts.

But, eventually, they were done, and Dan collapsed in the entrance foyer, his briefcase dropping by his side. He tipped his head back against the wall where he was sitting on the floor. “That’s it. I’m never moving again.”

“Agreed,” Phil panted from beside him, sprawled out, ungainly and uncaring about it. “That was my workout for the week. Month. Year.”

Dan chuckled from beside him. The ceiling was cracked, tiles a little loose. The whole place looked about a strong puff of wind away from falling down. He thought over the people they’d met, all the faces, everyone they had spoken to. Those people deserved something better than this.

“At least this building is protected from further imp attacks now,” Phil said from beside him, apparently on the same train of thought.

Dan turned to him, brow furrowing a little. “How did you do that?”

“Spellcasting,” Phil answered mysteriously, and grinned at him. “All the weird hand-waving I do has a purpose, you know.”

“No, I get it,” Dan agreed, shoving lightly at Phil’s side. “I meant, like. I never studied Spellcasting, it’s higher level than I went to. How does it work? Are you, like, bending reality, or what?”

“Not quite,” Phil chuckled. “It’s complicated.”

Dan’s face fell a little. “Spellcaster secrets?” He wouldn’t be surprised. Every other Spellcaster he’d ever encountered had been closed off and annoying, unwilling to let slip about anything beyond their magic. Dan shouldn’t be surprised if Phil was the same, didn’t know why he’d expected anything different, really.

“No,” Phil disagreed, reaching out to lay a hand on Dan’s shoulder. “It’s just complicated. I’ll show you when you show me your potions – or if we work together sometime, of course. I’d like that. A lot.”

Dan’s stomach did the funny jumping thing again. He swallowed, tension building in him. “Oh, uh. Yeah. Work. I don’t – I don’t actually do much of that.”

Phil tilted his head inquisitively.

Dan let out a breath. He pulled his knees up into his chest, wrapped his arms around them, wondered how exactly he go about explaining the pull in his chest at the thought of his office, the idea of doing more trips when the last one had gone… so very badly wrong.

Sure, this one had been ok, but that was largely down to Phil. Dan wouldn’t even have taken this job if it wasn’t for him, and for PJ’s insistence.

“They probably told you, anyway,” Dan mumbled, looking down at the floor, all too aware of Phil’s gaze trapped on him.

“Not much,” Phil answered gently. “Just that this was your first one in a while.”

Dan bit his lip. He didn’t need to elaborate, didn’t need to say anymore. But something about Phil was making him _want_ to open up. Maybe it was Phil’s easy manner, maybe it was because he was exhausted after a long day. Or maybe it was because this job was the first thing that felt close to having fun Dan had experienced in a long time.

“My lost job,” Dan started, “It went bad. Very bad. Outbreak, but not imps, it was boggarts. Three. They occupied a hotel, so I went on a solo mission. Louise tried to come help me – my co-worker – but I insisted she didn’t need to, it involved a lot of travel and stuff. So anyway. I went off, only… it didn’t go to plan.”

“How bad?” Phil asked gently. His hand landed on Dan’s shoulder, jerking Dan for a moment. Phil sucked in a breath, but didn’t move his hand. “Sorry. You don’t have to say.”

“It wasn’t just boggarts,” Dan explained slowly, something tight in his chest winding up and up and up. “I could handle those fine, but. Then. I uncovered a faerie nest.”

Phil inhaled sharply.

“Yeah,” Dan responded wryly. There was a lump in his throat. “A lot of people died. They got in the street, the whole village had to be cordoned off in the end. My draughts weren’t made to combat faeries, and I didn’t have any ingredients with me, I was worse than useless. Since then I’ve just kind of. Floated. Not worked much.”

“Until today,” Phil said wonderingly.

“Until today,” Dan agreed, tone much more morose.

Silence settled over them for a moment. Phil’s hand was still heavy on Dan’s shoulder, Dan wondered if he’d forgotten it was there. He hoped Phil wouldn’t move it.

“I couldn’t tell,” Phil spoke up suddenly. “I mean, you’re so professional. And like I said, your potion looked incredible. Perfect texture, perfect colour, it even smelled appetising. I swear all the draughts I got given as a child tasted disgusting.”

“That’s just shoddy workmanship,” Dan disagreed. “Potions get bad press. They deserve to be beautiful, too.”

“They do,” Phil agreed softly.

Dan turned his head. Phil was looking directly at him.

Dan felt like the air had been punched out of his lungs. Phil’s eyes were tinged with just a hint of green, his expression soft, calm. Something was flickering in the depths of those eyes, something Dan felt echoing deep within his own chest.

It was suddenly very difficult to breathe.

Phil’s hand on Dan’s shoulder tightened, sliding down a little until it was wrapped around Dan’s arm. Dan’s own hand lifted involuntarily, gripping onto Phil’s knee where he was sitting beside Dan, just looking. Those flutterings inside Dan’s chest were turning into clangings, beating against the edge of his lungs, dancing around his abdomen. It had been a long, long time since he’d felt anything like this.

There was a noise from the stairwell. Something clattering down to the bottom, a piece of litter, meaningless, but it was enough to start them both out of whatever spell they’d fallen under. Dan’s hand retracted from Phil’s knee, Phil’s hand left Dan’s arm, but they stayed looking at each other.

Phil’s face relaxed into a smile. He ran one hand through his hair, laughing, pushing his glasses up his nose. “So. We’ll meet again. You’ll show me how you make fantastic potions, and I’ll teach you that Spellcasting isn’t all meaningless waving hands around everywhere.”

Dan snorted. “It’ll take a lot to prove _that_ to me.” He appreciated it, though, what Phil was doing. Saying they’d meet again. Saying this wasn’t the end, somehow.

Phil shook his head. “I’ll show _you_ , Dan Howell.” It was a statement, a promise, proving something to the future. They _would_ meet again. This _wouldn’t_ be the end.

Dan clambered up to his feet, offered Phil his hand. Phil didn’t let go once he was on his feet, not all the way out of the building until they were back on the street, where they’d met that morning.

Dan tucked his briefcase under his arm. Phil swung his cloak about his shoulders.

“I’ll see you again?” Dan said, meaning it as a statement. It came out as a question.

Phil flashed him another brilliant smile, attempted another fail-wink, just ended up blinking at him. “I’ll see you again.” When Phil said it, it _was_ a statement.

Dan turned to go back to his flat, an ache in his chest as he walked away from Phil. But it didn’t feel like an ending.

No. If anything, it felt like a beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> I might continue this verse, depending how I feel in the morning. Please let me know what you thought ^_^
> 
> Also on tumblr @ineverhadmyinternetphase, come bother me there if you like


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